Hana

What I’d give to just jump off the stage and punch the bored expression right off that arrogant asshole’s face!

“Better,” Jiho said as the lights dimmed. “Thanks.”

If he recognized me, he didn’t show it.

“All right, let’s go again from the chorus,” the choreographer said. The music started up again and the first catchy refrains boomed from the sound system in no time at all. “Five, six, seven, eight.”

Somehow, I managed to move my numb feet through the first couple of counts, my shock slowly replaced by an anger that was building steadily with every driving beat.

You did this! I wanted to scream at Jiho. You’re the reason I’m up here and days away from being evicted from my apartment! You’re the reason I’m out here dancing for my life!

My hits got harder, my steps more sure and quick. I didn’t take my eyes off Jiho for a second, letting the sight of him drive power into each of my moves. The rest of the crowd melted away. It was just me and him and the music.

See? See how good I am? I thought. This is what I can do. This is the person you treated like the dirt beneath your shoes. They’re as good as you.

I was light. I was air. None of the other dancers, not even the one who’d nearly tripped me up before, could get close to me. I leaped away from them, my feet barely touching the ground before I sprang up into the next complicated series of windmills, pops, and locks.

“Yeah, you left me for dead but look at me now!” The singer wailed over the loudspeaker.

Look at me now!

I was suddenly struck by the memory of Eunji showing me the music video to this very song months ago. Although their hit “Summer Summer” was light-hearted, this one was much angstier than that, with a clear rock and roll drumline. Music that was almost raw in its defiance.

The fierce joy that had shone out of the dancer’s face as he’d run right up to the camera and effortlessly pulled off one of the most difficult moves I’d ever seen—with a smile on his face—was seared into my mind. Suddenly, I knew that if I was going to have a chance in hell at winning this, I’d have to do something that crazy.

Can I pull this off?

The rap refrain was almost over—the song was whipping itself into a frenzy, nearing its climax. All of us were dancing so fast, our feet were a blur. The ground beneath us was getting slick with sweat.

“Look at me now! Look. At. Me. Now!” the refrain continued.

I ran downstage toward the judges’ table, staring straight at Jiho as I flawlessly executed a double backflip into a one-handed handstand, my other hand holding desperately onto the shirt to keep it from falling down. I held the pose for the last few, excruciating beats.

Then it was over. No one said a word. I slowly straightened up, suddenly nervous that I’d ruined my only shot.

The judges leaned over each other to deliberate, whispering softly beneath their cupped hands. Eunji and Miles had somehow snuck into the audience area behind them and they both gave me enthusiastic waves over Jiho’s head. Jiho was clearly arguing with one of the other judges, his brow furrowed as he shook his head emphatically.

***

Jiho

The never-ending flow of contestants all seemed to blend in together. Short, fat, tall, skinny—what did it matter? There were only a couple that I’d even consider to dance back-up for us, let alone join us on stage. And that was only because we were being forced to.

I checked my watch again. The hour hand was still stubbornly stuck at 3 p.m., although I could swear days had gone by since I’d last checked it. I stifled a groan. What the hell was I doing wasting precious rehearsal time auditioning talentless idiots when the VMAs were only a couple days away?

All because of stupid Doyoon. He couldn’t have waited until we were all back in Seoul to pull his disappearing act?

“That one,” Youngdo jabbed his pen at the skinny boy dressed in what looked like his dad’s shirt. “He’s the only one who tried to do Doyoon’s handstand trick.”

Junghoon grunted in agreement. “He’s clearly a level above the others. Good stage presence. What do you think, Jiho?”

“The kid has a couple of tricks up his sleeve. Who cares?” I said. “We don’t need any cocky upstarts messing with the harmony of the group by trying to upstage everyone else. I don’t know why you guys are so impressed with that second-rate copycat.”

“You’re being argumentative on purpose. Look at him.” Youngdo gestured to the guy who was drinking water on stage with the others.

I snorted. “Yeah? What about him?”

Youngdo glared at me. “He’s clearly the best dancer we’ve seen all day, and he’s got the right look.” I snorted again and he sighed. “I know how much you’re hoping Doyoon will come back, Jiho, but you’ve got to face the reality of it. He’s gone, and you’re going to have to pick somebody from this lot. If you can’t do it, I will.”

I cursed under my breath, staring down at my silent phone. Twenty missed calls later, and not a peep from Doyoon. No text, no calls back, not even a stupid emoji to show me he was still alive. This was all his fault. If only I could get a hold of him, I knew I could talk him into coming back and then we could end this charade once and for all.

“Hey. You listening to me?” Youngdo snapped and I shot up in my seat.

“Fine, pick whoever you want. It doesn’t matter who we choose, they’ll only dance with us one time anyway,” I said, shoving the chair in. “Go ahead, pick the copycat for all I care.”

I whirled out of the auditorium before Youngdo could say another word in that weaselly, nasal voice of his.

Stupid daddy’s boy.

***

Hana

After our audition, the PA from earlier gently shooed us back into the waiting area where we nervously waited for the results. She stopped calling out names, and no one else joined us backstage.

“Do you think this means someone was selected?” One of the dancers asked excitedly. More than one person looked at me but I just shrugged. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. What the hell was taking so long?

What am I doing here? I suddenly felt hot. Of course, they wouldn’t pick me. I was just one of the millions of hobby dancers in New York, and most of the other competitors had clearly gotten more formal training than I could ever dream of.

Did I honestly think one flashy trick was going to change their minds? A trick of one of their own members at that. It was the one thing I always remembered from a video Eunji showed me—that guy Doyoon could dance.

It was definitely time to go. Maybe if I headed straight to the campus library, I’d be able to send off a couple of resumes before they closed for the day. I drifted over to the door, trying to surreptitiously slip out before anyone could notice I’d left.

One of the judges I didn’t recognize at the table stopped me in my tracks. “Where do you think you’re going? Nobody’s been excused yet.”

Foiled in my escape attempt, I took my hand off the doorknob. “I’m sorry, but some of us have places we have to be. I’m an adult, I can take a ‘no,’” I said gruffly. “Just tell us the results and we can all be on our merry way.”

A sharply dressed man approached us from the judges’ table. I recognized him as the one who’d been arguing with Jiho earlier. He exuded power with every step he took, as if he owned the very stage and everybody on it.

“I understand your frustration, Hanuel, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to cancel whatever prior plans you may have had for today.”

“Why?” I asked, looking him up and down. He had to be around my age. I felt myself getting a little flustered looking at him. “Who are you?”

“Youngdo Song, at your service,” he said with a small nod. “All you need to know, for now, Mr. Kyung, is that you aren’t going anywhere because you’ve officially passed this round.”

My brain ground to halt. What did he just say? “I...I passed?”

A small smile played over his lips. “You did a great job this round. Keep up with that personality of yours, it definitely comes through in your dancing,” he said. “As I’m sure you know, we’ll be doing a livestream of the final round—I can’t wait to see what surprises you come up with for us.”

To my utter horror, a bright red flush stained my cheeks as I stuttered out a “thank you.” Youngdo gave me another secret smile before dismissing everyone else with a single nod and walking away. I stared after his broad back, my heart beating in my throat.

“Ohmigod!” Eunji barreled into my back at full force, squealing so loud that the remaining judges flinched and covered their ears. “Oppa, I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Oppa? What are you talking…” Crap! I’d completely forgotten that I was still dressed as Haneul. I hope I didn’t give it away by staring like an idiot at Youngdo!

Doing a complicated handstand move I’d never done before, winning the qualifiers, getting all tongue-twisted...too much was happening at once. My head still in a daze, I pulled Eunji toward the refreshment table so I could grab another drink of water and hopefully make some sense of what just happened.

While reaching for the water bottles, I accidentally brushed past a glowering form. His hand shot out and grabbed my arm and I yelped, automatically twisting to try and detach myself from his grasp. It was no use—his grip was like iron. I might as well have been fighting against a wall for all the good it did me.

“Hey! Let go—” When our eyes met, all the blood drained from my face.

Jiho hissed, breath hot on my face. “I know who you are!”